Lipstick on His Collar
by Archaeologist
Summary: Merlin just knew that it wasn't going to work. He wasn't a bloody girl and dressing up like one was just asking for trouble. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1 - A Beginner's Guide

**Prompt from merlin_writers:** Pretend boyfriend - Arthur & Merlin as a couple, Uther coming to visit them not knowing his son is dating/living with another man. Merlin (willingly or unwillingly) goes full on "Dolma" and pretends to be a woman. (that's technically a "pretend relationship", right? XD) Awkward/hilarious situations ensue.

**Author's Notes:**  
1) Many thanks to my self-less and long suffering beta, camelittle. She's my rock, especially when it comes to all things British!  
2) For the non-UK people, a few definitions. Suspender belt (or suspenders) = garter belt; tights = pantyhose; stay-ups = thigh-highs. Who knew that we don't speak the same language even though it's all English!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; BBC and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 1 - A Beginner's Guide to Shopping **

It was impossible; it was bloody impossible. He'd never forgive Arthur for making him do this.

His hands sweating as he clutched at the frilly thing, he twisted the dress this way and that, trying to figure out how he was supposed to put it on. There were too many buttons, too many layers, and bloody hell, was that a petticoat underneath? How was he to buy something that would fit him properly if he couldn't even get the sodding thing on?

He was getting desperate. No matter what Arthur said - arse that he was at times, Merlin was not a girl. And yet girls put on dresses every day. Was there a secret manual or something? Were they trained since birth to know what to do with skirts and stockings and oh, God, knickers? Was he going to get into trouble for even thinking that way? And wasn't that ridiculous that he was worried what people would think when they didn't even know what he was thinking?

Great. Now he was panicking.

Ears already burning with embarrassment, he knew that he couldn't pull this off, no matter what Arthur wanted. He couldn't wear a dress; he couldn't pretend to be a girl, not for a second, never mind for a whole weekend. It was impossible.

He should just leave. He should tell Arthur that he'd stay with Gwen for a while, just until Arthur's father goes back to London. Uther didn't need to meet him just yet; Uther didn't need to meet Merlin at all. Arthur could just deal with his daddy issues - alone.

But then it was too late.

From behind him, hard to miss, was a titter of snarky laughter. He gave a little shudder, then turning, in the reflection, he could see shop girls arriving, lots of them.

The story must have spread like wildfire; a man was going around the womanwear department, holding up dresses next to him, looked as if he were trying to work it out how to put them on. And the fact that he'd been muttering under his breath the whole time, certainly wouldn't have looked good. Odd maybe, perhaps a bit creepy and definitely gossip worthy.

Of course, they'd come to see it all. And now they were standing around, like vultures hovering around their prey, watching him, watching him with their beady eyes, pointing, whispering. And smirking, lots of smirking.

He froze. His gut wanted him to hide, to find some cave and crawl inside and never come out again. Should he drop the frilly thing and escape? Try to ignore them and buy the damn dress anyway? That would only give them more time to gather and stare and he felt his face going red and blotchy just thinking about it.

He didn't want to be there. He did _not_ want to be there. Didn't matter that he'd agreed to it, that he said he'd do it for Arthur's sake.

He just wanted to escape before it was too late.

Decision made, he tried to put the thing back but the dress refused to be hung up, all that frilly lace getting entangled in the rack, and finally he gave it up, dropping the blasted thing on the floor.

And then he tripped over the hem.

As if the day couldn't get any worse.

The floor at least was surprisingly comfortable, and, surrounded by pinks and sparkles and billowing lace, he couldn't see what was going on - and hopefully they couldn't see him, either. If he stayed there long enough, hidden from view, they'd have to get tired of it all and leave, right?

No such luck.

As he lay there pondering his next move, a matronly woman suddenly appeared, her face hovering upside down just above him. It was all a bit disconcerting but at least she wasn't smirking. Instead she said, "Sir, are you alright?"

From a distance he could hear more giggles. At that, the hoverer's head shot up and she glared into the distance. "Get back to work, you lot. And don't think we won't be having a conversation about how to treat a customer properly before you all go home tonight!"

The threat must have worked because even though Merlin couldn't see past the racks, he could hear the vultures retreating in haste.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was time to make a quick escape before things got any worse.

"Do you need help getting up, sir?" As the woman pushed past the bulging racks, she leaned down and extended a hand but he waved it aside. Instead, he scrambled up and, not knowing where to look or what to do with himself in this ridiculous situation, brushed at the threads hanging on his shirtsleeve.

"No, no, no help. I'll just…." He started backing away, hoping to find the exit before he was completely buggered. "Leave."

He was too embarrassed to look at her, his face still burning, but he could tell she was unhappy by the way she said, "Oh, sir, please, I must apologise for my girls. I will see to it personally that this doesn't happen again."

"That's okay. No harm done." He nodded toward the door. "I'll just…."

"Sir, you are very kind." At that, Merlin looked up. Hilda, floor manager according to her name tag, was standing there, looking concerned. "I hope this incident won't keep you from finding something suitable. Is this for a lady of your acquaintance or for yourself?"

"I… um… myself?" Even admitting it only made things worse.

But Hilda didn't bat an eye. She said, "We do have an extensive selection of dresses that might fit you in the talls department. I think purple or a deep blue would enhance your complexion and we just got in several that would suit you. I can see why you couldn't find anything here. These are mostly for petites."

His cheeks grew hotter. Enhancing his complexion? He'd not thought this through, reckoned he'd just buy a dress and be done with it but would he have to wear makeup, too, lipstick and that stuff they put on their eyes and get those spiky heels and oh, sod it, suspenders maybe? He didn't know what to say. His bloody brain had gone completely into flustered mode. "I…."

Hilda just kept talking, oblivious to his rising horror. "Are you looking for a dress for an evening out or day wear?"

An evening out? Where other people could see him? And he realised that of course, they'd be going out. Uther would insist on it, rich bastard that he was and Arthur would go along with it. Never mind that it would be Merlin in the bloody dress, Merlin looking like a complete idiot, Merlin looking like a _girl_. "I…"

"Our shop can see to all your needs, of course. Shoes, stockings, scarves, comfortable dresses or perhaps separates, and of course the finest evening wear. If you need other things such as makeup or perhaps lingerie, we can supply them as well."

He tried not to squeak. Lingerie? As in knickers and bras? Or suspender belts? Oh, God.

"It's not… I don't… I can't…." His brain melted down as he tried frantically to come up with some reason to escape.

"Would you prefer something on-trend or a classic design? Wardrobes should always include a bit of both, don't you agree?"

He turned bright red; he thought he'd combust from the heat flushing his face and for a moment, he couldn't speak. A wardrobe, the woman thought he should be buying an entire wardrobe - as in more than one.

He couldn't tell her that his boyfriend was a complete arse and that Merlin was a coward, too afraid of losing the best thing he'd ever had to protest the indignity Arthur was demanding of him.

"I lost a bet." It was a complete lie, and Merlin didn't even know where it came from, Arthur calling him an idiot might not be so far off the mark, but Hilda's face softened, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Ah, that would make a difference. Then perhaps a single dress might do. Something understated."

"I have to… a whole weekend. One dress unless you think I'd need more… and we… might go out to a fancy restaurant so I'd…," he stammered to a halt.

"I have just the thing. If you will follow me?"

It only got more surreal after that.

Hilda led him deeper into the store, past miles of hideous colour, mannequins showing off odd things that no human should wear, not even girls. An ever present reminder of what he'd agreed to. Overwhelmed, sleep-walking his way into the talls section, he stood there as she looked him over for a moment. Then she started to pull out clothes and hold them up next to him.

At least they weren't pink.

She discarded one dress and then another, then moved to another rack, choosing several that might be large enough and not too horrible, mostly blues, and purples, colours that Merlin might have liked in some other lifetime. Folding them over one arm, she gestured to the more sparkly gowns in the far corner and then shook her head. "You might be able to get away with just a simple black dress for more formal occasions." Then nodding to herself, she pulled out a longish thing, sleek, something one of the fashion models might wear, hideously expensive-looking. "Although it is a bit dear for a one-off, I think it would fit you nicely." She shoved the dresses into his arms. "Sir, you won't be able to use the dressing rooms in this department but menswear is just one floor up. If you'd like to try them on there?"

He looked at her in horror. Going into the men's dressing room with an arm full of dresses? No, just no.

"Can't I just take them home and try them on and bring back the ones I don't want? I don't…." He tried to keep the whine out of his voice, he really did but he felt ridiculous.

"Of course, sir. Just keep in mind our returns policy." She looked a bit troubled. "Will you need help with anything else? I would suggest a brassiere at least. Otherwise the dress's chest area might flop around a bit. Also a scarf to cover your throat since women's necks are not shaped the same as men's. And of course, you will need stockings. And shoes. And perhaps some makeup?"

It was all too much.

He must have looked like a bloody fish, drowning in air. "Makeup?"

"Just a bit to enhance your cheeks and blue eyes." Hilda was looking as if she discussed makeup with men every single day but Merlin just couldn't take it.

"Oh… okay. If you say so. I don't…. I don't." Luckily there was a chair nearby, one of the few in the store. He sat down, dresses covering both arms and most of his lap. He gaped up at her. Taking a breath to try and calm down, he said, "Could you… could you bring them here? I don't think…."

"I'm not sure…." But when he blinked up at her, gulping furiously - he must have looked like he was about to faint or retch into the dresses she'd piled into his arms - she seemed to take pity on him."Leave it to me, then."

The absurdity of it hit him as soon as she was gone. He'd agreed to pretend to be Arthur's girlfriend because… because his boyfriend was an effing coward about being gay. As if pretending to be straight would keep his homophobic tyrant of a father from finding out and cutting Arthur off. As if having a tall, gangly girlfriend all angles and five-o'clock shadow would make things better. Or more importantly, as if Merlin could pull off the whole ridiculous thing with just some dresses and makeup.

Like that's going to work. With dresses and bras and everything else that girls had to endure? It was ridiculous.

But he didn't move. After all, Hilda had been kind to him, even if she was doing it just to sell him things. So, he'd buy the dresses, and anything else she came up with, and he'd take them all home and throw them at Arthur - and hopefully something would click and clear out all that rubbish that his idiot boyfriend thought about inside that thick head of his. Money wasn't everything after all. Love mattered, too.

He was a lot calmer when Hilda returned, a large shiny bag displaying the shop's logo in her hand. "I've had to guess as some of your sizes but as with the dresses, just bring back the things that don't fit."

Merlin didn't want to look inside but ignoring what she'd brought for him was the coward's way out, and he'd been enough of a daffodil as it was. As he gazed down into the bag, he could see some brighter fabric that might be anything, a pair of soft black shoes, what looked like opaque black tights, a smaller plastic pouch full of makeup, and worst of all, at the bottom of it all was a padded bra.

A padded sodding bra. It had come to this.

Looking back up, he gave her a little smile. "Thank you for everything. I don't think I could have done it all without your help."

"Glad to be of help." She hesitated, then said, "If I might suggest one more thing? We do not carry wigs in our store but if you have need of one, there is a shop three doors down that stocks some that might suit."

If he thought it couldn't get worse, he was wrong. More shopping, more people pointing and laughing. And he knew, he just knew that he'd get it all mucked up somehow; he'd be talked into some ridiculous long blond wig with curls flying, and he'd end up getting it caught in everything and having it go askew in front of Arthur's dad, maybe even falling off in that posh restaurant he'd pictured, right into the soup. It was a nightmare waiting to happen.

Hilda looked as if she knew what he was thinking and pitied him a bit. "If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask, sir."

"Merlin, my name is Merlin."

"Merlin, then." She sent him a little smile, then patted his arm and pointed toward the front. "Shall I ring this up for you?"

He could only nod, trying not to think of the horror to come. Wigs indeed.


	2. Chapter 2 - Lipstick? Really?

**Chapter 2 - Lipstick? Really?**

He didn't remember getting home but when he finally calmed down, there were dresses scattered across the bed, a dark brown wig looking as if it wanted to crawl away from the whole mess or maybe chew on Merlin's leg when his back was turned, and all those other sundries Hilda had got for him, too.

The makeup was the worst, though. How he was supposed to know what to do with mascara or eye colour crèmes? Then there were brushes and two kinds of lipstick and something called foundation in a little glass container, and some darker pink colours in a plastic tray, and in a little round thing with a spongy pad and a mirrored lid, there was beigy-pink powder.

Powder?

He had no idea what that was even for - and he certainly couldn't ask his female friends. They'd want to know why and then once they got over the outrage, they'd be at the flat in a second, trying to turn him into a girl and giggling the entire time, well except for Morgana who might beat the crap out of Arthur for even suggesting the whole debacle.

And it was a debacle.

Picking up one of the scarves, a soft thing in shades of blue, absently winding it in and out between his fingers, he thought about the situation with Arthur.

It was ridiculous. Making him parade around as a girl was bad enough and just the idea made him both furious and sad but really it was Arthur trying to hide his true nature from Uther that troubled him the most.

It was the coward's way out, surprising since Arthur was usually nothing of the sort. Instead he tended to jump in with both feet whenever he saw injustice, fighting to make sure his friends weren't bullied or put upon, making sure those he thought in need were safe from predators.

In fact, on the day they met, when they were both just boys, Merlin had been cornered by bullies intent on beating him up for being different and a bit shy. Arthur had shoved himself into the situation and shown his true mettle. Never mind that the other boys were bigger than him, and that he ended up with a blackened eye and split lip. In that moment, Arthur was Merlin's hero. But then, when it was over and the other boys had fled, Arthur opened his big mouth and turned into an obnoxious prat.

After that, there were insults and scowls and almost-blows, and any hope of being friends evaporated into fierce competition. Even his mum had interfered once and with her sad disappointment, Merlin tried to do better after that, mostly by avoiding the pillock whenever possible.

It wasn't until uni when they met again that Merlin was finally able to see past the façade to the compassionate man underneath. It took some doing, too, lots of days and nights where they were at odds, but once Merlin realised that Arthur was hiding how he felt under a blustering, sod-it-all exterior, it was easy to love him for it. He still loved him for it.

That was also why it was painful to see Arthur so beaten down by his dad's drive for perfection. And embarrassment or not, that was why, in the end, Merlin agreed to lie about being Arthur's girlfriend.

He just wasn't sure he could pull it off, though, and was more than a little worried that if they were found out, Arthur would bear the consequences.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the front door open or Arthur sneak up behind him. But when Arthur called out his name, Merlin jerked, then stumbled forward, landing on the bed. There was the sound of several things hitting the floor, and somehow the wig was prickling at his neck and getting into his eyes. He rolled off, then scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the wig, and threw it at a smiling Arthur. Of course, the git caught it easily.

"You've everything you need then?" Arthur looked at the wig a moment, then shook it from side to side as if to taunt Merlin before tossing it back to him. Merlin flinched out of the way, scowling at the wanker as he batted the wig aside. It ended up on the floor, mocking him.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "They kept laughing at me at the shop."

There was a fleeting moment of concern on his face and then Arthur grinned. "Don't see why. You are enough of a girl as it is. You'd fit right in."

Typical Arthur reaction. When he didn't want to show how much he cared, he'd descend into insults and ridicule. Well, two could play at that game.

"Don't think girls have cocks, you cabbage head. And if I recall, you like mine quite a bit. In fact, last night, you begged for it, more than once." There was a flash of memory in Arthur's eyes and his smile turned a bit heated.

But much as he'd like to throw everything off the bed and shove Arthur down into it, they had things to discuss. He bent down, picked up the wig and put the hairy mess on top of the pile on the bed. "I'm not going back. The whole experience reminded me too much of getting bullied in school."

That seemed to sober Arthur. He gathered Merlin into his arms, pulling him close. "Merlin, you know I wouldn't ask you to do this if I thought my father would understand."

"I know." Merlin brushed his mouth against Arthur's for a moment, a quick apology, and then leaning against Arthur's shoulder, nuzzling at his throat, he said, "In the end, I had this nice woman helping me. Hilda, the floor manager. She ended up picking almost everything out for me."

"I'll send her flowers." Arthur shifted, raising his head a little to look at the purchases on the bed. "Do they fit properly? I'll love to see you all dressed up with the wig and makeup on." Then he drew back, staring down intently. He sounded eager, a hint of sly mockery in his voice. "Is that a bra I see?"

"Don't start."

"Kinky." Letting go of Merlin, Arthur moved to the bed and started sifting through it all, clearly looking for something. "Where are the knickers? There had better be a suspender belt in this pile, too, or do I have to send you out again?"

"You really are a bastard, you know." Merlin was gaping at him. Sometimes he couldn't believe what utter drivel was coming out of that perfect mouth.

"I'll take that as a no." Arthur looked at him as if he'd thought Merlin had gone crazy. "How can you wear stockings without suspenders?"

Arthur might be Merlin's hero but he could be a bloody prat at times and just ridiculous with how little he knew about women, especially considering he'd grown up with Morgana. "This isn't the Middle Ages. They've had stay-up stockings for decades. And tights. I don't need a sodding suspender belt, you ignorant git."

Frowning at him, Arthur looked a bit confused. There were tights in his hands and he kept waving them at Merlin as he said, "Alright, alright. Fine. But these, these are black. You need to get the skin coloured ones. You know that, right? Ones you can see through."

He couldn't be serious. Arthur couldn't think that Merlin was going to actually do girl things like shave his legs, could he? When Arthur looked down meaningfully at the tights and then stared back at Merlin, one eyebrow raised, Merlin gave a little shudder. Bloody hell, he did think exactly that; he did want Merlin to be a girl.

"No, I'm not shaving my legs, Arthur. Not doing it. No."

Merlin sent him a scowl that should have turned Arthur into the toad he was but instead of staring up at Merlin and croaking away, Arthur just smiled. "Spoilsport."

"Arse."

Arthur gave a little snort. "I want to see if it all works or if you need more things. When are you going to try them on?"

"When hell freezes over." Merlin folded his arms, staring at Arthur, letting him know that he wasn't trying on the dresses any time soon, not until he had to. "Wanker."

"It's pretty cold out now." But Arthur knew how to get past Merlin's stubborn determination. Tugging at his arms, getting Merlin to let go long enough to let Arthur in, he said, "I bet you'll look good enough to eat." Then he nibbled at Merlin's earlobe and then gave him a little lick right there, just the way he liked it. Merlin tried not to whine, he did, but Arthur had a way of breaking through his defences.

It took a while before he could say, "Good enough to eat? Don't need to be a girl for that." Trying to keep control of the situation and not end up agreeing to everything Arthur wanted, he pulled back a bit. "Honestly Arthur, I can't pull this off. I don't know how to act like a girl…."

When Arthur just smirked at him, mouthing out 'girl' in that irritating but oh-so-Arthur way he had, Merlin said, "Don't start. I can put on the dresses, but the makeup? And the wig? And walking right and... he'll see right away I'm a man dressed up in women's clothing and then where will you be?"

"By your side." His voice sounded as determined and sincere as Merlin had ever heard and he choked up a little at the emotion of it. Sometimes Arthur left him breathless.

Giving Merlin a sharp hug and then letting him go, waving his hands toward the bed, Arthur said, "Look, don't worry about it. I can help you with the makeup and the wig. It's not that hard. Just don't overdo it and you'll be fine."

"How do you know? When was the last time you put on makeup? Or a wig?" Merlin had been making a joke of it all but there was a look in Arthur's eyes and a slight blush to his cheeks that told Merlin there was something more to it. "Arthur?"

Arthur looked away, his cheeks reddening further. "Well, um… you've met my sister, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Oh, this should be good. Arthur was hiding something, something big and with every second, he seemed to grow more embarrassed about it.

"Well, Morgana was worse as a kid." He glanced at Merlin and then stared off into the distance. His voice, usually loud and strong, had turned into mumbles and Merlin had to lean in to hear what he had to say. "And… um as her younger brother, she pretty much ran the house like a dictatorship. Father wasn't around much and she… well, I was easily intimidated, at least with her."

Morgana was pretty intimidating as an adult. He could imagine she'd be terrifying as a kid, especially to a younger brother."And?"

"Well… um, she liked to try on different types of makeup… on…me."

He tried not to laugh, truly he did but he was choking on it. He could picture a younger Arthur, running around looking like something out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, with suspenders and stockings and wild makeup, and that only made it harder to keep it in. He let out a choked gasp, hoping that Arthur wouldn't take it too badly.

But Arthur knew him too well. Looking a bit hurt, he said sharply, "Not funny, Merlin."

That just tipped it and he was coughing and laughing, trying to catch his breath and pretend it wasn't him finding it hilarious. "Yes, it is."

"Is not."

It took a while but a couple of wheezes later, Merlin sobered up. He could see how Arthur was pretending not to be upset about it and it made him feel badly for how he'd reacted. "Okay, okay. So you can help me with makeup and the wig. But it's still not going to work, you know."

"I have every faith in you. After all, all your colleagues say you are brilliant. I'm sure a budding engineer bent on saving the world can figure out how to pretend to be a girl."

Merlin smiled at him, hoping to tease him a bit to ease the hurt. "I thought you said I was already a girl."

Leaning down, Arthur swept everything off the bed, pulled Merlin to him, nuzzled at his neck. "Don't want a girl. Just want you." And then he proceeded to show him just how much.

It was amazing.

Arthur was really good with the makeup. And after he'd persuaded Merlin with that tongue thing he did, Merlin went out and bought a suspender belt, too. Kinky bugger. But he still wasn't shaving his legs. Not for anyone, not even for the man he loved. No.


	3. Chapter 3 - Dooms Day - Pendragon style

**Chapter 3 - Dooms Day - Pendragon style**

His legs itched. Shaving them had been as awful as he'd imagined. Arthur could be bloody persuasive at times and although he'd made up for it in blow jobs and cheeky sex talk, Merlin was never doing it again.

Of course, it took his mind off the bigger problem, namely meeting Uther Pendragon. He'd heard horror stories from Morgana and even Arthur was tight-lipped about him. He'd never met the man, as a boy or as a pretend girl, but with the internet, nothing was private any more.

By all accounts, Uther was a rich, snobby bastard who held onto deeply conservative values, drove his competitors into bankruptcy and thought nothing of ignoring the wreckage when he was done. He sneered at the lower classes and mocked those less fortunate for being on the dole. How Arthur could be as compassionate as he was after living all those years with the man was beyond Merlin.

At least when they visited Merlin's mum, Arthur was enveloped in Hunith's gentle welcome. And it helped that there were always warm scones and clotted crème waiting for them. Arthur would leave his mum's place just a little bit heavier, much as he'd deny it.

Merlin wished Hunith was there now. He was sure she'd put Uther in his place with a single look. He'd seen it often enough to know just how deadly it could be.

But instead, he had to pose as a girl and face the ogre, his worried boyfriend by his side.

They'd already got into a fight about what Merlin would be wearing to the restaurant. He'd put his foot down and refused to wear the suspenders - they pinched - but Arthur was equally adamant about the makeup and what kind of scarf he should wear to hide his very masculine neck and how the bra needed to be filled out with stuffing, never mind that the stupid thing stood up on its own with all the padding.

The dress was too short. Arthur said he looked great in it but Merlin was sure Arthur was just mocking him, finding a new way to call him a girl without using the actual words. At least the shoes fit.

If he'd have had time, he'd have fortified himself with a stiff drink but one glowering frown from Arthur and he had to abandon that idea.

As expected, Uther had chosen the swankiest restaurant in town to meet with them. Merlin and Arthur had never been although Morgana talked about it one time, calling it hideously expensive, restrictive about its clientele in a snooty, obnoxious way, clearly harking back to the Dark Ages of class snobbery. Merlin certainly wouldn't have been allowed in, even if he could have afforded it.

Arthur didn't look happy to be there, either. But he put on a fake smile, grasped Merlin's elbow and ushered him into the hallway.

Clearly, the maître d's pretentiousness was sorely tested by their less-than-posh appearance, but once Arthur mentioned 'Pendragon', the man's scowl fell away and he gestured for them to follow him.

Feeling like everyone was watching him as they wove their way through the restaurant, Merlin was relieved to sit down at a quiet table near the back. He had to keep tugging on the dress, though. It was a bit obscene how much it would ride up every time he moved. How girls coped, he had no idea.

He knew he couldn't let himself relax, either. His legs kept wanting to flop open and he knew girls didn't sit that way, certainly not with short skirts. He shoved his knees together in the hope that he'd appear more ladylike but the tights were hot and kept pulling at places he hadn't shaved. Plus the wig was scratchy and the lipstick felt weird. The underwire in the bra kept digging into his chest, too. He was sure he'd have bruises from it by the end of the evening.

It wasn't an auspicious start.

It got worse when Arthur's father arrived. Dressed in a suit that would probably cost Merlin a year's rent, he greeted Arthur with a short nod and sat down. Only then did he look at Merlin.

Uther must not have liked what he saw. He turned a pecular shade of grey, then frowned at Arthur in disbelief.

"Who is this, Arthur? Not the girl you have been so enamoured of these last months."

Merlin winced at the scorn in Uther's voice but Arthur seemed to take it in stride. "Father, this is my girlfriend, Marylyn Emrys."

Leaning back to let the waiter place a napkin on his lap, not even glancing at the man, instead Uther was staring at Merlin as if he were some kind of loathsome bug. "Emrys? Isn't your flatmate a Merlin Emrys?"

Merlin squirmed. He was feeling very uncomfortable about the whole situation and it wasn't helping that the dress was riding up again. As menus were passed around, he pulled at the hem, jiggling the table a moment when his knee knocked against it. He refused to look at Uther, first watching the water slosh a bit onto the tablecloth and then concentrating on the menu.

There were no prices on it, never a good sign.

"Marylyn is Merlin's sister. That's how we met."

When he glanced up again, Uther wasn't even paying attention to the menu. Instead he was scowling, his mouth tight as he stared at Merlin. He looked like he was thinking about burning him at the stake or cutting his head off for daring to date his son. With a cold kind of scorn, Uther said, "She's very masculine-looking."

"Father, don't." A frown deepening on Arthur's face, he glared at his father a moment and then took a long breath and let it out.

But Uther just ignored Arthur's obvious discomfort. ""Well, there was that unfortunate incident with your flat mate at university, what was his name?"

"Leon and he was a perfectly nice bloke, until you made sure he left."

Arthur hadn't said much about Leon in the months Merlin had known him, other than they'd once been involved. He could tell it was a painful subject for him and hadn't pressed for details. Obviously there was more to the story and all of it had to do with Uther.

"He didn't seem all that troubled to leave once I had my solicitor explain things to him." Uther shrugged, turning at last to the menu. "I suppose I should be pleased that you found a woman this time. I'd hate to have to step in again."

Hands fisted white, Arthur was clutching at the expensive linens as if trying to keep in his temper and failing. Hoping to diffuse the situation, Merlin gave him a little smile and grazed his fingertips across Arthur's knuckles. Arthur sent him a tight grin back and turned his hand up, squeezing his apology and love into Merlin's palm.

Uther must have seen the movement. Looking up, his scowl hardened for a moment, then his face smoothed out as he said, "Arthur, you must realise that we Pendragons have an image to uphold. Ms. Emrys is of the right gender, but I had hoped you would choose someone of your own class."

"Father, you know that I don't care about that kind of thing. I'd hoped you would be happy for me, just this once."

"Considering your _history_, I suppose she will have to do." Uther put the menu aside and leaned forward, his focus solely on Arthur. "I saw Vivian Olaf the other day. Beautiful girl. She seemed quite pleased to hear that you are doing well in that little firm you work at. I gave her your number. You should take her out some time. I hope to buy one of Olaf's companies and…"

Although Arthur's hand was still in his, he was squeezing it so hard that Merlin had to finally tug it free and wiggle his fingers about to regain circulation. Arthur didn't even seem to notice. He was too fixated on arguing with Uther. Merlin could only wonder what it must have been like to grow up with such a cold, controlling father and what Arthur had to do to keep himself from being damaged too much.

"No, Father, no. I am not calling Vivian Olaf or any other woman you want to fix me up with. I love M..Marylyn."

"I am sure you do." Uther sent Merlin another cold look. "It wouldn't hurt you to take Olaf's daughter out for a drink. It's not a marriage proposal, Arthur."

But before Arthur could argue back, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Merlin had no idea what to do. He hadn't paid any attention to the menu while the other two argued but as he sat there, stammering a bit, Uther muttered under his breath about stupid girls and ordered a steak, rare, for him. Never mind that he didn't eat red meat, and the idea of it coming out bloody made him a little ill but Merlin wasn't about to make things worse for Arthur. So he smiled and nodded and tried not to look at his seething boyfriend.

As soon as the waiter left, Uther started in again. "I've kept abreast of Camelot, Inc. It's doing well enough for a small company but surely you would be better off working in Pendragon Industries. I'm sure I could find you a vice president's office in London and your salary would be substantially higher. You'd be able to move into a more spacious flat. Buy the finer things of life for yourself and Ms. Emrys', too. I'm sure she wouldn't object to that." At Arthur's mulish look, Uther said, "I don't see why you are so stubborn about it. It's not as if you will be learning anything of import here."

"Father, I want to make my own way. Just as you did." Merlin could see Arthur's jaw clenching. Normally, he'd find it sexy as hell but right now, it wasn't a good sign.

Uther turned to Merlin. "Ms. Emrys, my son tells me you are still at university."

At last a subject that would not lead to arguments. Merlin began to relax. "Yes, sir. I'm working on my PhD in nanotechnology. It's an exciting field and one that is currently expanding to…."

"Odd choice for a woman." Uther was clearly not interested in nanotechnology or indeed in anything Merlin had to say. "But wouldn't you have been better off in London? There are several major universities there doing that kind of work."

He held his temper, though. There was already enough tension in the air. "Camelot University is ranked just below Imperial College and it is a good deal cheaper to live here than in London. I am not wealthy, Mr. Pendragon, so I had to choose a place I could afford."

"And living off my son helps, I'm sure."

Arthur bristled at that, started to say something but Merlin covered his hand, pressed down until Arthur winced a bit. "I make my own way, sir. I teach part time and I've saved a little." He smiled at Arthur then turned back to Uther. "I don't live off Arthur, Mr. Pendragon. We share fifty-fifty."

"Living in poverty, I'm sure, since my son continues to work at a firm that pays him well below what he could be earning. Although I have to wonder if you realise Arthur will come into a great deal of money next year when he turns 25."

Insult after insult. It was unbelievable. Merlin said firmly, "I will be finishing up my degree by then. I won't need his money or anyone else's but my own, sir."

"Certainly, an admirable attitude, if true." Uther gave him one long measuring look, then dropped the pretence and turned back to Arthur. "London is the centre of the country: financially, socially, intellectually. Remaining in this backwater lessens your chances for advancement."

"Father, I am not moving to London."

* * *

It only went downhill from there. Much as Merlin sometimes thought Arthur a coward for not facing his father and telling him the truth, he hadn't realised just how bad Arthur's life had been with Uther.

Growing more silent as the evening progressed, by the time the soup arrived, Arthur was already ordering drinks and downing them at an appalling rate. Not the expensive wine his father kept pushing but potent cocktails with ridiculous names: Sex on the Beach, Orgasm #10, Fuck My Bum Crack, Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall. Arthur would glance at his father and then order them in a loud voice, demanding that the barman double the vodka, too. And with every drink, Arthur got more and more pissed, glowering down at the table until the next round appeared.

In other circumstances, Merlin would have rolled his eyes and mocked Arthur for being ridiculous but he really understood just how awful he must have felt. But it wasn't the way to get his father to change his mind. It would only make things worse.

He also was rather worried. He had never seen Arthur so out of control. Usually, he was a modest drinker, preferring to enjoy a glass of wine or two but stopping before he lost control. Rare enough that Merlin could count the times on one hand, when Arthur did get drunk, he'd be very handsy and not a little charming before sleeping it off.

This wasn't a sweet drunk, though; this was an explosion waiting to happen.

Finally, Uther must have had enough. "Arthur, this doesn't become you."

Face flushed, a sharp frown cutting into his skin, Arthur rounded on him. "Do you even know… who I am?" He was having a hard time getting the words out but he seemed determined. Rubbing his hand over his face as if to clear his mind, he said, "Seems you… just want… puppet. Strings… pulling. Stran… strang…"

"Strangling?" Merlin said softly.

Arthur nodded, his hand clutching at his throat for a moment and then he slapped at the table, knocking over one of the empty glasses. "Yeah, strangle…ing. You… never… wanted me. Just… tro… phy."

Behind Uther, there were waiters hovering. They must have seen that Arthur was close to passing out or maybe causing a scene, something that would ruin the reputation of their posh, snotty over-priced restaurant. Never mind that they'd let him order so many drinks, just more money in their pockets.

It was time to go, past time, never mind the ordered food or the fact they would likely be watched by everyone in the restaurant as they walked out. "Arthur, love, we should leave."

"Wanted him… to love you, Merlin." Sometimes Arthur could break his heart with just a look. And Merlin wanted to kiss him senseless right then and there and bring back his brilliant smile.

But then he realised that Arthur had called him Merlin. Quickly, before things got even more out of control, he said, "Marylyn, sweetheart, my name is Marylyn, remember?"

"Why is he calling you Merlin?" Uther was looking at him, sharp and cold and dissecting every movement, looking for a way to slip in the knife.

"Not that it's any of your business, but sometimes he forgets, especially when he's had too much to drink." As he stood up, tugging at Arthur, hoping to get him to move, he could feel the damnable dress shift. He yanked down the hem, worried that it had already inched up over his arse and showed the world his bollocks and then realizing that he didn't give a flying fuck about it. Arthur was more important. "My brother and I have very similar features. He's confused, that's all. When he sobers up, he'll be fine."

"You are the one who has confused him." Uther sat there, his face flushed with anger, his voice cold as ice. "He was perfectly fine until you got your claws into him."

Arthur leaned his head against Merlin's side, blinking up at him, vulnerable and small and beloved. "Love you… anyway, Merlin, Mary…lyn, doesn't matter. You're… you."

"I know, love." Merlin couldn't stand it any more. He stared down at Uther. "You have no idea who he is or what he wants."

Sharp, controlling, repellent, at that moment, Uther looked like he wanted Merlin's head on a platter.

"Lower your voice. You are making a scene."

Something must have got through. Arthur turned toward Uther, said flatly, "Can't have a sc… sc… scene. Pen…Pendrago…ns can't make scenes."

Ignoring Arthur's outburst, Uther glared at Merlin. "This is your fault. He never drank this much when he was home."

Merlin leaned forward, both palms digging into the fine linens, dress riding up but he didn't care if anyone saw his bollocks or not. It was time someone told Uther the truth.

"How would you know? You were never there. And when you did see him, you belittled him at every turn."

Arthur murmured something unintelligible, his head nudging into Merlin's side. But that only gave Merlin courage. Even with Uther's bitterness poisoning the air, he had to try and make the bastard see what he was doing to his son. "Arthur loves you. He's your son and yet you treat him like shit. You are going to lose him if you don't back off."

"I'm sure you would like that. How much easier it would be to separate Arthur from his money without someone to look after his interests." Uther looked at Arthur, distaste in his face and then back to Merlin."This entire display has been appalling."

"I agree. This display _has_ been appalling." He stood up, yanking down the bloody hem once more. Lifting his chin, he said, "You better decide exactly what you want, Uther Pendragon. A perfect son who hates his life and drinks himself into oblivion or an imperfect man who will love you for letting him live the life _he_ wants, blunders and all."

"I'll ruin you," Uther said.

Merlin had no doubt that he'd try. But love was more important than this petty tyrant's threats. "Yes, and Arthur will prostrate himself before you and ask your forgiveness for it, I'm sure."

Pulling at Arthur's arm, he finally got him to stand but it was a near thing. He was swaying a bit and Merlin knew he'd have to bear most of Arthur's weight. "Come on, Arthur, we're leaving."

Flinging one arm over Merlin's shoulder, Arthur nuzzled into his neck. "Love… you."

"Later, you idiot. Right now we've got to get out of this effing restaurant." As they walked slowly past the glitter of rich, stuffy fools, knowing that they were being watched every second, knowing that the whispers following in their wake would grow and grow and grow, Merlin didn't care. He just wanted the night to be over and Arthur safe in his arms.

"Perfect in that… that dress." Arthur's body was getting heavier by the moment. The smell of alcohol was strong and Merlin began to worry that they wouldn't make it home. All the while, Arthur was spouting nonsense into his ear and Merlin was only half-listening as he walked them both toward the door. Arthur's hand started to wander, too, and Merlin had to keep batting it away. "Should wear… it again. No knick…ers, though. Want to… want to… fuck you. Now?"

That stopped Merlin for a moment, then he laughed. "I'm not having sex with you in the loo."

Arthur looked almost affronted that he'd said no. After all, they'd done it a couple of times before at the pub but never with Arthur so out of control. Merlin knew it wouldn't be pretty; most likely Arthur would end up on the floor passed out. And he didn't really want to deal with a snooty maître d' and possibly the police.

"Ummm." Stumbling, Arthur knocked against one of the tables and a woman in diamonds and velvet sent him a disgusted look. But he ignored it, nuzzled at Merlin's neck and slurred out, "Merlin… dress. Wear it… again?"

Merlin shook his head. "What is it with you and dresses?"

"Shows… legs." Arthur looked down, smiling and then back up at Merlin. "You have … legs."

"That I do."

They'd finally made it to the entrance. For a second, Merlin glanced back. Uther was staring after them, looking gob-smacked and not a little lost but his face hardened when he saw Merlin looking at him.

"Don't feel… well."

Great. At least they weren't in the taxi yet.

* * *

The maître d' didn't want to let Merlin into the men's loo but after Arthur turned green, he didn't have much choice. So Merlin spent the better part of an hour, helping Arthur clean up after each bout of vomiting and then trying to keep him awake while the taxi took them home.

At least Arthur's expensive jacket was dry-cleanable; the tie was a complete write-off. So were the tights; he discovered several runs in them when they got back to the flat.

But Merlin didn't care. It was over and they could go back to being Merlin and Arthur again. If Uther disinherited Arthur, they'd survive. They both had bright futures, far away from Pendragon Industries; the love they shared would last a lifetime.

And more importantly, he'd never have to wear a dress again.


End file.
